Torchwood: America
by writersblock76
Summary: There's a new drug on the streets of Detroit and it's unlike that ever seen before. UNIT has found it fit to reluctantly fund a new Torchwood division to deal with the matter. A couple former faces from The Wire will be joining the team as well.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This story is being written under duress. I've been without a computer for a while, thus making it difficult to write. 'Why didn't you just write it the old fashion way? With a pen and paper?' I just can't. Maybe I'm the complete opposite of old fashion. I can't read my own handwriting, and I don't feel I can express myself properly. So, with that said, this is a story I've been writing in my mind to and from work for a couple weeks. It features two characters from The Wire and the idea of Torchwood in America. This story will either end properly, or end when I get this creative burst done with and continue with something entirely original. So, with that said, I a) don't own the Wire. It's far more brilliant than I could ever hope to be, and most importantly, b) hope you all enjoy it. There will be sex, drugs and violence topped off with profanity but so are the last three web sites you probably looked at before you came to this web site, let alone my story.

TORCHWOOD US:

A New Case

-34-

"So that's how you found him huh?" Mcnulty asked. "And I wasn't even done with my case," he added looking down at the body. "I suppose I can get paid for tracking this stupid mope now for as long as I did, but fuck," he said trailing off. The body was laid in the middle of Woodward Avenue, on its back. Its eyes and mouth still both open, as if they were in shock. The only other (yet very obvious) discernible difference the body displayed from being removed from the living aside from the lack of pigment in the skin was a large amount of blood running down its nose.

"We're going to bag him here pretty quick, Jimmy," Earl said. "You had better get clear. My lieutenant is going to have a shit fit if he see's you poking around another scene," he said.

"Yeah, but, this guy- Tommy Heigel, he was someone I'd been following now for a good two weeks." Jimmy squatted down to get a better look at Tommy. "Shit," he said under his breath. "Did anyone even really see what happened?"

"Not really. We got one homeless guy around the way to say that his nose started bleeding and that he was gasping for air, and started stumbling around and that's where he fell." Detectives were taking pictures of the body from every angle. "It's fucked up man."

"So, this is a pretty big production for a medical mishap, don't you think?" Jimmy asked without taking his eyes off the body and doing his own investigation. "And I've never really got a vibe like this from any scene other. Something feels kind of warped here."

"Shit Jimmy! You really used to be a detective, huh?" Jimmy smiled at Earl.

"So what? This isn't the first is it?" Jimmy got as close as someone without a badge could get.

"Nope. We've been finding a lot of these guys lately like this. I'm not high enough on the chain to hear anything about the autopsies, but me and a couple other of Detroits finest think it might be a new drug or something," Earl said. "But we never hear much about it after that. It's like it's forgotten about. You know, they could pay a garbage man to do what we do these days."

"Any patterns?" Jimmy asked.

"Well from what I see, whenever we get a call, it's never anyone you'd think is messing around with drugs. Someone usually kind of clean cut. What do you know about this guy, Jimmy?"

Jimmy was silent for a moment. "He worked at the City Hall. He was an advisor to the mayor."

"Yeah, but you know how this guys shit stinks. What about that?" Earl said.

"Well, I never thought he was into any drugs or anything," Jimmy said.

"I guess you're done following him, right Jimmy?" Earl asked.

"Yeah, I guess," he said.

-39-

It was late. Oliver Russell undid his tie as he walked to the door of his home. It was a long day of discussing how to budget a city with little to no funding. The president of three companies in his town had testified in from of the senate as to how such a financial crisis would worsen if the three of them folded. The automakers were operating in a town that was hurting. And to fold would not only destroy his city, but it would destroy his state. He would be remembered as the mayor who was in office when Michigan was destroyed. Yet, there were much worse problems that were at hand that he couldn't talk about with most. He knew extortion was a crime, but how would extortion work if the one extorting you is unearthly?

He opened the door to hear the click of a gun. He navigated the shadows that lead to his living room. He knew who he'd see before he even turned on the light. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and proceeded. He saw a man, black slick backed hair. A big man sat on his recliner with his legs crossed leaned back. He was taping the point of his gun against his belt buckle looking bored. On the couch he saw his son, Ollie J tied up with duct tape over his mouth. Tears running down his face.

"," Oliver said. "I suppose you heard about Tommy today," he said. "Tell me Oliver," he was quiet and leaned forward. "What the fuck happened?" Oliver was silent. "I repeat, Mayor Oliver J. Russle, what the fuck happened? This is the forth fucking time. My shit is on the streets and I want to know why. It's too close to home, Oliver. I thought we had trust. So I think maybe it's time for a little warning." Oliver was paralyzed. It was a nightmare he tried desperately to wake up from in his mind. But it was all too real. The man lifted the gun and pointed it at his son. The trigger was squeezed. It threw his son across the couch, and dropped him on the floor. Oliver's wife would now consider the couch ruined if she hadn't died during child birth, and his son laid dead on the floor.

"Motherfucker," he said in a stern yet monotone voice. He ran to his side. "Oh, God!" he said. He rubbed his hand along his sons face. "Please. Not this." The man walked over calmly. The smell of the smoke from the barrel still fresh in the air. He squatted down to look Oliver in the eye.

"This goes smoothly from now on, or he's finished. For good. Do you understand me?" The man put his hand on where he shot the child. Little Ollie J began to heave and looked to have what appeared to be a seizure. His eyes rolled back in to his head, he began kicking and (in what most in the religious community would consider) speaking in tongues. "He'll remember this as a fucked dream. But remember what I said."

The man got up and walked out the door. Oliver still at his son's side, never looking away from the boy "when this is over," Oliver said, "I'll kill you."

The man smiled. "Birds can fly, but we can't. If we have the faith of a bird, you think we could fly?" He headed out the door. "When this is done, I'll let you test your faith."

-9-

The two looked at the body. Tommy cleans up nice as a stiff. Alone in the examination room. One of them put on a rubber glove, opened the eye and noted the red dot to the side. It was an all too familiar pattern now. Bloody nose (estimated blood loss to be about a pint and a half,) sudden decomposition of body from with in, but the integrity of the skin undeniably kept. The smell of decomposition emanated from the orifices of the body. The first three bodies David and Alexa, the Medical examiners for UNIT D had worn masks to deter the smell. They quickly disassociated the smell from being vile to that of being evidence. They found a pattern. They knew what they had to report now. They knew that going up the chain would lead to something more.

"It's not our job to worry about the big picture. We're not paid enough," she said.

"Yeah, but this picture will put us on special detail in this town, of which I hate, and UNIT hates paying Company D overtime," he said.

"You know what I say then?" Alexa asked while examining the fingernails of the victim. "Fuck em'," she said. "That's what I say." David laughed while he held the small flashlight over the victims eye.

"You can write that in your report," David said.

"Yeah, 'after examining the last four bodies of the victims, we have concluded that the substance found is of extraterrestrial origins, and will become an epidemic most likely destroying an already dead community in the vast majority, so fuck it.' And with that I'll hand them my resignation letter.

"Back to the basement of Henry Ford Hospital we'll go," David said.

-22-

"Hey Lester," Jimmy said taking off his coat and throwing it on his desk. "Looks like my case is done," he said. Lester was looking close at a dollhouse dresser that he had been working on for hours making sure every detail was intact. It was a replica from an old photo Freman found in a photograph from 1859.

"That reminds me," he said, "Kate Heigel called. She sounded upset."

"She should. Tommy's dead," he said. Lester put down the furniture.

"Really now?" Freman said seemingly intrigued. "What happened?"

"I don't know. Drug overdose I guess. Not like any drug overdose I've ever seen," Jimmy said sitting down at his desk, putting out a pint of Jager from the top drawer of his desk.

"What are you thinking Jimmy? You think he was murdered?"

Jimmy took a sip of his drink. "I think so."

-4-

Oliver laid in bed wide awake. Hours ago he had cleaned his unconscious son and was thinking how he'd explain the blood stain on the couch in the morning. He watched the shadows move on the ceiling from the window outside. He laid in his bed alone with his hands behind his head. He had a meeting the next day with the UAW and he had to figure out what to do with his private matter.

"Dad?" Ollie broke the silence. He looked up and saw his son at the doorway. Though Oliver felt helpless, he could at least rest knowing his son was with him. But was he safe? "I had a nightmare," he said.

"What about?" Oliver asked. He sat up and looked at him. "It doesn't' matter. Come here." His son got in to his bed and laid next to him.

"My stomach hurts," his son said.

"I know, Ollie." He ran his fingers through his sons hair, "I know.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: I don't own Jimmy McNulty, Lester Freamon, Beadie 'Beatrice' Russell or the rights to the name or concept of Torchwood or the Wire. All other characters not listed above are my own creation.

Torchwood US:

Loaded Words

Mayor Russell walked quickly up the stairs and through the door. He was on his way to a series of meetings he was dreading with the heads of the UAW. He hadn't slept well the night before. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't consider what he did last night sleeping. He laid in bed with his eyes shut, yet he remained fully conscious. All he had these days were his son. He lost his wife a year before. And this year he may lose his city. But it was his son that kept him grounded. Oliver Russell junior (better known as Ollie J) kept him from going to the top floor of the Fisher building and running full speed out of a window, and last night for a brief moment, he had reason to get in the elevator.

"Mayor Russell, I'm with the Detroit Free Press. May I ask a quick question?" the thirty-something asked with a small notepad open. "Mr. Mayor?" he asked.

"No questions please. I'll be making comments this afternoon," the mayor said. And like a ghost he was gone. Dan Werner closed his notepad and stood still for a moment in the doorway where the mayor passed him. He sighed and walked back down the stairs to his car.

-18-

"C'mon Jimmy, we've got other cases to work on here," Lester said as Jimmy was going through the notes he had taken through out the time he followed Tommy. "Okay, so you didn't see him take any thing. So what?"

"I watched this guy like a fucking hawk, Lester. Besides, I think I owe it to his wife," retorted Jimmy. "It's the whole Catholic guilt thing," he added.

"Isn't that what happened with that girl by the docks a few years back?" Lester asked.

"Yes, and look where that put us."

"Yeah, the Greek skipped town. But Bunk and I closed the case on those fourteen bodies though," he said with a great deal of satisfaction in his voice.

"Yeah that's cause' back then we were doing good old fashion po-leece work," Jimmy said with a smile on his face. "Tell me again how we ended up going from the Western district to Detroit?

"So I'm not exactly sure what you want from me here. Your presidents have already talked to the senate about the bailout," Oliver sat back in his chair with his hands cupped over one and other. "Them and their fucking jets. But don't mistake them for me. I'll do whatever I can to help you out" he added.

"We need you to be seen with us," said the heavyset man. He was wearing a short sleeved corn blue dress shirt and a black tie that was tied a bit too short. Though it was the middle of Febuary, he had managed to work up a sweat. "We know there isn't much you can do to fund us, but we ask you be seen with us. You're more popular with us than you give yourself credit for."

"That's fine. I can speak at a meeting if you like," Oliver said. "I appreciate the fact that the teamsters are in a tight spot, but believe me when I say that when it comes to the job situation…"

"The job situation is, pardon me for saying – blatant bullshit," he said. "I know you can't fund us, but Jesus Christ, set up some sort of job placement for our people who are being laid off. There has to be something you can do," he said. "Our people are hurting and it seems like you're not giving two shits about those people."

"Don't you for a God damn second forget where I came from, Bill," he said. "You remember my old man. He worked on that line every day." Oliver said. "I respect those workers more than you could ever imagine."

"Show it then," Bill said. "Show us your support tomorrow night. We're having a meeting at the local hall 22."

"Fine I'll be there. Anyway, I have some other meetings in here today. But I'll do what I can with in my power," Oliver said. "I'll be there." Bill got up, as Oliver did. Oliver shook Bill's sweaty hand and headed for the door. As Bill opened the door, the man who shot Oliver's son walked in. He shut the door behind him. They were alone.

"How was your meeting Mr. Mayor?" he asked.

Dan was going up the elevator with a knuckle-white grip on his notebook. It was just after noon. He knew that a lot of his co-workers would be on lunch, but he had a meeting with his editor. The elevator doors opened. The few people who were in the newsroom looked up at him. He knew what they were thinking. They didn't need to say anything. "Welcome back," Karen said as he walked by her cubical. She said it cautiously. He nodded to acknowledge her. He walked in to his editors office. The door was open, he was looking at his laptop without realizing someone was there. Dan knocked lightly enough to get his attention.

"Dan," Paul said. Paul took off his glasses. His sleeves were rolled up. He took out a bottle of asprin from his desk and took a couple pills and washed them down with coffee. "How are you? Take a seat." Dan was tapping his foot on the floor. "Just for the record, I didn't want things to go the way they did. It was out of my hands," he said.

"I know, Paul." Dan put his notebook on the desk. "It was a stupid thing on my part."

"I'm just going to say my peace here, and then we'll move on. But it has to be said because we never talked about it. It was indeed a stupid thing, what you did. It isn't so much the assumption that hurt the paper, it's more the reputation and the recovery that we'll have to go through because of it," he said. "Every facet of that story was true. The charity event, the cocktails, the speakers, and it would have been spot on had Nicholas Lidstrom shown up," he said.

"But he didn't," Dan said with a sigh. "He didn't show up, did he."

"You were trying to get ahead of the curb," he said. "I think from time to time your coworkers will do it. The only difference is you got caught."

"I did. It won't happen again, Paul." Dan said. "I'd sooner hand in my resignation than go through what I did again."

"Good man," Paul said. "So what are you working on? You should be refreshed and ready to go."

"I'm working on a story about the working man. I've got a great line on a family of autoworkers and how they're coping with the economic climate. Four generations of autoworkers in one family, and now the youngest of the sons just got laid off." Dan grabbed his notepad and began going through it. "I tried getting a quote from the mayor this morning to get his reaction, but he wouldn't comment. "

"That's fine. Just make it sing like you know how to do," Paul said.

Alexa, and David stood at attention in the office of the Brigadier Jameson when he entered the room. "At ease," he said. "I'll make this quick because we have a real problem here," The Brigadier sat behind his desk and pulled out the file the two had been working on. "We are dealing with Ronald Reagan's worst nightmare. The war against drugs has just gained a high ground."

"Sir, I believe that these cases may possibly be isolated," Alexa said.

"At the moment you're right. But it's the match that'll burn down the entire forest if we don't put it out now. Even from your own conclusion, the terrestrial components of this drug aren't much unlike that of heroin, without adverse long term side effects. But there's no frame of reference with the alien component," he added.

"Should we continue on with our autopsy duties related to this case?" David asked. "Pardon me, sir, should we,"

"That's fine. I've called you two in because I am indeed reassigning you. You two have shown exceptional skill in your duties of both forensics, and your extensive medical backgrounds that I'm assigning you as our two medical officers in a new task force," he said. Bear in mind, it was no accident that we recruited you two in the first place.

"Very good sir," Alexa said. "I believe I may be speaking for David when I say we welcome the change of duties."

"This task force is implemented in only one other place in the world at the moment. Typically UNIT doesn't associate directly with this agency, but we need a CIA to our FBI. Maybe you can think of it as a set of second eyes," he said.

"Are we being forced out?" David asked.

"No, you're just being reassigned. It's still going to be headed by UNIT. You'll be reporting to Lt. Michael Dietrich. Tomorrow at 0800 hours. Your new headquarters will be e-mailed to you shortly. Dismissed." The two left the room. The brigadier sat quietly for a moment looking over the file. He picked up the phone, and dialed a number and waited to a short pause. "This is brigadier Jameson. Contact the Shadow Proclamation. Tell them we're less than twenty-four hours outside of establishing a new division of Torchwood to further the investigation."

"One of the proudest moments of my adult life is when my son Tricky told me he got a job at the plant. That made him the forth generation in all to work for Ford," Alister 'Al' Costas III said with a cadence of pride only to be washed down with another sip of his Budweiser. "You ever hear that Monty Python joke? The one about the American beer?

"I can't say I have," Dan said with a small swig of his.

"American beer is like having sex on a canoe," Al said.

"How's that?" Dan asked.

"It's fucking close to water." He said with a chuckle. "You know, even though I know this beer is shit, and I could just as easily drink a Molson Canadian, I feel like it's about as bad as driving a rice burner to work. You can't even find a shirt in your closet these days that isn't made outside of this country."

"So Tricky's been laid off now for three months?" Dan asked. "How has he dealt with it?"

"He just moved back home with us," Costas said. "He never was good with his cash. Plus he has the child support. It's not like we can have him stay with us too long either. My hours are getting cut. We're hurting pretty bad now. Me and Liza. We've been married now twenty-three years. Make sure you mention that in your writing"

"How did you two meet?" Dan asked.

"Assembly line. She started there twenty-three and a half years ago. Everyone on the line was trying to get with her, but I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her, that she was going to be my wife if it killed me. "A year later we bought a small house on the east side, and we were three months in to expecting Tricky." Al's nostalgia made Dan nostalgia for a time he himself never even knew and lacked a frame of reference.

Al killed the rest of his beer, putting down an empty twenty-two ounce mug. "Ya' know my old man and his old man would drive to Kingsford every day and work on the Waco CG-4A Glider. My dad made sure to make me remember that plane like D Day. That's the plane the paratroopers jumped out of to get behind enemy lines in the war. I used to think my dad and grandpa won the war. Hell, I still do." He paused a moment when the bartender gave him another drink. "He was younger than Tricky was when he started. And now look at us."

Jimmy pulled up twenty minutes past 8. Beadie opened the door and to meet him. He got out of the car, walked up to her, and kissed her. The smell of meatloaf greeted him in the living room. "Delicious," he said.

"How was work, Jimmy?" Beadie asked.

"Not bad. I told you about the guy I was following. Turned up dead, right?"

"No, what happened?" Beadie asked.

"Police say it was a drug overdose, but I doubt it," he said. He maneuvered around unpacked boxes to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple beers out handing one of Beadie. "But what do I care, right?"

"Did you talk to his wife yet?" she asked.

"I left a message for us to meet tomorrow morning. I don't know if she'll make it. I'd be surprised if she made it considering." He said twisting the top of his beer off. He took a sip. "Find anything good yet?" he asked.

"I have a call back from a department store. They need an asset protection part-timer." She said.

"Security guard?" Jimmy asked with a smile.

"Looks that way," she said with a smile.

"It's something for now. At least until something better comes along." Jimmy leaned against the counter looking at her. Beadie walked over and leaned up against him hugging his arm.

"Do you miss Baltimore?" She asked.

"Nah," he said. "I think I'm a bit calmer now," he said.

"You miss being a police officer though," she said.

"Where the kids at?" reminded by a painting on the refrigerator.

Beadie put her drink on the counter, putting both arms around Jimmy.


End file.
